


Floriography

by SweetHermitress



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Flower Crowns, Fluff, M/M, flower shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHermitress/pseuds/SweetHermitress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flower shop AU: Carlos is a new florist in town.  He uses the language of flowers to communicate to Cecil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floriography

Sweeping up the floor, Carlos looked around his new flower shop and couldn't help but smile. Yes, opening day had gone rather well, all things considered. He'd always wanted to run a flower shop in the desert (a region he considered underserved when it came to diversity of flora and fauna) and now this sleepy town called Night Vale was host to his dream come true. He admitted, the city council was a bit mysterious when asked how they could assure he'd get proper irrigation for his greenhouses, but since it had, indeed, been taken care of, he didn't see much need to complain.

He turned off the lights for the sign and began to head back to the greenhouse. The sign read "Floriography," the proper name for the language of flowers which had been most popular during the Victorian era. Maybe Carlos was a romantic, but he thought it was positively dreamy that people once expressed unspeakable feelings through the beauty of flowers. As a result, he often tried to incorporate floriography into his designs. Oh sure, he'd put together things that just looked pretty, but he saw it as a special sort of challenge to combine both beauty and symbolism. He took pride when his designs successfully integrated both, and it just felt perfect.

When he hit the muggy air of the greenhouse, he rolled up his sleeves and turned on the radio. He realized he still had it tuned to the station of his hometown and just got static, so he searched the airwaves until he found the local station. He remembered because a rather enthusiastic customer had told him he worked for Night Vale Community Radio. In fact, he was sure that the same man was on the air now. Carlos picked up his clippers and began to prune his roses. The man had a very nice voice.

"A new florist has come into town," the man was saying. What was his name again? Ah yes, Cecil. Did his little store warrant the news? The town must have been smaller than he realized. He turned his attention back to the radio, snipping away.

"...he was wearing a boutonnière made of Casablanca lily," Cecil said, "which he told me symbolized celebration."

Carlos was impressed that the host remembered this detail, but he supposed this was just a journalistic attention to detail. Well, he thought that for a moment, until he heard Cecil continue:

"His hair, slightly grey at the temples, was so beautiful I wanted to take some of those flowers and make him a crown. I fell in love instantly."

Carlos slipped and cut off the head of a rose. Did he hear him correctly? He tried to tell himself he had heard incorrectly, but there was no mistaking the words. Well, it did explain Cecil's enthusiasm. Carlos admitted he was always a little clueless if someone was attracted to him, preferring the company of flowers to people, but he couldn't believe he'd been so blind. The radio host was positively mooning over him. Blushing furiously, he wondered what he'd do if he saw Cecil again.

The answer came the next day. Bright and early, Cecil entered Floriography, humming a little tune to himself. Carlos tried to hide behind a display of bouquets, but soon he heard Cecil's voice call out, "Oh, Mr. Florist! How nice to see you again!" He said it as though it was unusual to find the florist in his own shop.

Shuffling out from the display, Carlos pulled nervously on the hem of his shirt. "Uh. Hello. Cecil, right?"

"That's right! How sweet of you to remember. And what a lovely boutonnière you're wearing again today. What does this one mean?"

Carlos looked down on his own shirt, momentarily forgetting what he'd pinned to his shirt this morning. "Um. Oh." He felt himself flush. "It's kind of silly. It's a marigold, which communicates a desire for riches." He laughed nervously. "I mean, I don't expect to get rich on flowers or anything, but it seemed like a good idea to invite as much good juju as possible."

Cecil was smiling. "Well, I hope I can help a little bit. I noticed yesterday that handsome boutonnière you had on, and I thought to myself, 'Cecil, you should try wearing more flowers.'"

Carlos remembered what Cecil said on the radio about a flower crown, but quickly shook it away. "OK. What did you have in mind?" 

Cecil was looking around aimlessly. "Ohhhh, I don't know." He turned his eyes waggishly to Carlos and purred, "Oh, I'm sure you have a good eye. What would go good with my outfit?"

Carlos was struck dumb. For one thing, he'd never had a customer give him so much confidence that he could accentuate their outfits. For another, most customers didn't wear boutonnières with jean-shorts, yellow galoshas, and houndstooth vests. Carlos took in Cecil a few moments, and he realized the radio host was actually pretty cute. He looked away hurriedly.

It didn't take long before Carlos had made a small arrangement. The whole time Cecil hovered over him, but he never interrupted as Carlos fluttered his fingers over one plant, then changed his mind and flitted to another. When he was finished, Cecil squealed and asked Carlos to pin it on. Carlos tried to ignore his trembling fingers as he gently touched Cecil's chest and pinned the flowers to him.

"Oh, Carlos," Cecil cooed, "It's so lovely. What does it mean?"

Carlos ruffled his hair self-consciously. "Well, the big one is just a rose, and the little ones are baby's breath. The yellow rose means friendship and the baby's breath festivity. I just -" he noticed Cecil looking into his eyes, and he looked away. "I mean. Well, you were humming when you came in, so I just thought... Anyway, I know it's pretty simple, but I didn't want to distract too much from your outfit."

Cecil looked as though he'd never heard anything so wonderful. "Thank you, Carlos. I'm going to wear it all day." The two looked at each other a bit longer than necessary before Cecil fumbled with his money and paid him.

That night when Carlos was in his greenhouse, he tuned into the radio again. Once more, Cecil was talking about him. He swooned over the boutonnière Carlos had made "just for him," and suggested that he was very into flowers these days. Carlos didn't know what to think. He was just a simple florist. There wasn't really anything special about him, he didn't think. And for Cecil to say he was so handsome he deserved to be crowned with flowers? Well. He tried to push it from his mind. He was a florist, and a florist focused on his flowers.

It was hard to focus on his flowers, however, when the love struck radio host came into his shop every couple of days to get a new boutonnière, always asking Carlos to improvise but always asking what it meant in flower language. Sometimes he'd come in twice on the same day, bringing him an interesting cactus flower and asking him about it. Carlos usually didn't know any of the lore about cacti since the Victorians didn't write much on them, but whenever Cecil did this, Carlos would make him a boutonnière from the cactus flower. Somehow Carlos liked these arrangements best of all.

The whole time Cecil would make a little note of it on his radio show. He made sure everyone knew where Carlos' little shop was located, and sure enough he saw his business increase as time went on. Even though everyone gave him a gentle ribbing for having caught the local radio host's eye, Carlos had to admit that Cecil's infatuation was probably the best thing for his business.

One day Cecil came in, a storm cloud over his head, and slammed his credit card on the counter and demanded a flower arrangement that said "You're just the worst." After thinking a bit longer than usual, Carlos finally decided on geraniums (stupidity), foxglove (insincerity), meadowsweet (uselessness), yellow carnations (you have disappointed me), and orange lilies (hatred). Cecil swiped his card with a flourish, then asked Carlos to add a little card that read "For Steve." Carlos didn't ask who Steve was, but was pleased that Cecil left with a bounce in his step. 

It was then that Carlos realized that it was for Cecil that he put the most thought into his designs. It was for Cecil he always looked when the little bell on the door rang. It was Cecil who brightened his day even more than the loveliest flower, the most fragrant bloom. Slowly, it dawned on him that he'd been just as smitten with Cecil as Cecil had been with him.

Before Cecil came in next, Carlos made everything just right. His store was freshly swept. And he had the perfect boutonnière picked out: a yellow chrysanthemum, meaning a secret admirer. But first he had something special for Cecil.

Sheepishly, Carlos handed him a small handbook. Cecil looked at him quizzically. 

"It's all about the language of flowers," he explained. "It's just you always ask me when you come in what they mean, so I thought... You might like it."

"Oh." Cecil said lightly. "I. Thank you, Carlos." He did not sound his usual bubbly self, but Carlos was too busy getting the boutonnière ready. He allowed his fingers to linger a moment on Cecil's chest as he pinned it to him. He couldn't wait for Cecil to ask what it meant.

But he never did. He simply thanked Carlos, paid him, and slunk out the door. Carlos was dumbfounded. What happened? That night he tuned into Cecil's show early to make sure he didn't miss anything.

He was glad he did. Cecil shared that Carlos had given him the book. "So that's it, I guess," he sighed. "I guess Carlos got sick of explaining to me what the flowers meant so he gave me the book so I could look it up myself. It's a shame. That was my favorite part of the day."

Carlos was crushed. He'd never considered that his gift could be misinterpreted. And he had to admit, explaining the flowers to Cecil was his favorite part of the day too.

For a few days Cecil didn't come in. Then a week. Then two. Then as though nothing had happened, he entered one day. Carlos perked up and did his best not to fawn on him. Cecil was cool, but he did ask, per his usual, for Carlos to improvise him a boutonnière. Carlos had the perfect design in mind. Calmly as he could, he pinned a yellow tulip to Cecil's lapel. He waited for Cecil to ask what it meant, but it never came. Crestfallen, he accepted the payment and watched him leave.

Another regular, Old Woman Josie, sidled up to Carlos. "What did it mean, dear?" she asked him quietly.

"A yellow tulip," Carlos replied glumly. "Hopelessly in love."

For a while Carlos went about business as usual. Cecil began to come in again, though not as frequently as before. Every time Carlos had ready various messages for him through flowers, but Cecil steadfastly refused to ask him, and Carlos felt too ashamed to volunteer the information. He was kicking himself that he'd probably blown it with his favorite part of his new town. There must be some way he could win him over again

One night he was in his greenhouses, watering the various plants, when the phone rang. That was strange; he didn't give out the phone number for the greenhouse. He answered, but he didn't recognize the voice.

"It's Erika," the voice said, "I'm a friend of Josie's."

"Oh. Well, how can I -"

"Listen. Cecil is going to be coming in again tomorrow."

Carlos' voice caught in his throat a moment. "I. Thank you. But why are you telling me this?"

The voice smiled. "So you'll be ready." The phone clicked and the dial tone droned in his ear.

Carlos slammed the phone down and dropped the hose. This was his time to shine. He spent all night rearranging his shop. Sunflowers. Lilacs. Ambrosias. Maidenhair ferns. These and more were accentuated to their fullest beauty. Before going to sleep he made a little sign: "Closed for private event for Cecil Palmer."

Erika hadn't specified when Cecil would show up, but Carlos knew from experience that he usually came in early. Sure enough, a half hour from normal opening time, Cecil entered, dazedly looking at the handwritten sign, then gasping when he saw Carlos.

For the occasion, Carlos had fashioned himself a crown of red roses. When Cecil came in, Carlos couldn't help but smile ear to ear.

"Carlos! What is this?"

"Well..." He shrugged, suddenly feeling hot. "You said a while ago that you thought it would look nice. What do you think?"

Cecil stammered. "I. Yes. You look very handsome, Carlos. But I -"

"Red roses mean passionate love," Carlos blurted out.

Now Cecil was blushing. "Carlos..." He began softly. "I don't know what to say."

"Wait. Before you say anything." Carlos rushed behind his counter and pulled out a boutonnière. "I'm guessing that's what you came in for?"

Beaming, Cecil nodded and gestured for Carlos to come towards him and pin it on. Carlos could barely stop his fingers from shaking. Cecil was similarly flustered, as his chest heaved up and down.

"What's a daffodil mean?" Cecil breathed.

"It's a jonquil, actually. It, uh," Carlos meant to pull away after he finished pinning it on Cecil, but instead they were face to face, quite close. "It means desire of returned affection."

Cecil's eyes softened. Carlos licked his lips. "I didn't mean to push you away with that book," he continued. "I... I really like you, Cecil. I was hoping... I mean. I was hoping maybe some time you'd like to get -"

"I'd love to!" Cecil burst in.

Carlos' smile grew somehow wider. "Great! Can I pick you up tonight?"

Cecil looked around. "Well, you already reserved the store for a special event. Why not make the best of it?"

Carlos knew just what to do. Tenderly, he interlinked his fingers with Cecil. And slowly, he walked him around the shop and told him in detail what each of his arrangements meant.


End file.
